Lost In The Dark
by SupernaturalCanary19
Summary: Sam is fed up of the constant fighting between him and his father and leaves. However, on his fight for freedom, he learns that not all bad things are Supernatural. Contains Hurt/LimpSam and minorHurt/GuiltyDean EvilJohn. T rated, may become M.
1. Broken

Hi

**Hi! It's me again! **

**I have recently (2 months ago) fell in love with Supernatural, and just had to write something for it! I know I promised to update my HSM story, but, Supernatural is so, SO much better! :P **

**So, here is my pitiful attempt at a Supernatural story. I hope you like!**

**-:0:-**

Samuel Winchester was pissed, to say the very least. He sat fuming on his bed, his back tight against the corner of the wall and his legs hugged to his chest. His shaggy brown hair fell forward over his eyes as he rested his head on his knees. He was seething once more, after having another fight with his 'ever loving' (he chuckled bitterly when he thought that) father.

All he had wanted to do was go back to school tonight, to audition for the lead role in the school play! But, no. Once again, he was forbidden. He wasn't allowed to anything! And when he said anything, he meant it.

The football team, the basketball team, the drama club, the after-school book club, the sports team, the list went on. He was banned because of the hunts. Oh yes, his father's precious 'killing sprees' as he called them, or 'son-of-a-bitch murdering time' as Dean favoured.

He distinctly remembered his father's harsh words only a few seconds ago:

"_No Sam!" John roared to his youngest. When would he get the picture? "I am NOT letting you go wasting our time audition for some crappy school play when there are things that need sending back to hell! You are a WINCHESTER! Winchesters don't prance around on stage like a prissy little girl!" _

_Sam recoiled and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His face was screwed up tightly._

"_Dad, I don't WANT to hunt all the time! Its hunt after hunt after frikin hunt, and Im sick of it! I hate killing things! Im 15 years old dad and you don't let me have any other life than MURDER!" Sam yelled back, anger seeping into him, making him shake, and blink back the tears which now threatened to fall. _

_John closed his eyes angrily and slammed his fist hard on the table, causing Sam to jump back a few centimetres. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of winning though, he stood his ground and glared right on back at his father._

_This was the fifth time they had argued this week and he was getting sick of losing to his dad. _

"_Why can't you be more like Dean? He never had any trouble! He wasn't a whiney little brat that never managed to kill anything on the hunts! He was a Winchester and a damn fine one at that! He wasn't a USELESS, UNGRATEFUL BASTARD, WHICH DID NOTHING BUT COMPLAIN ALL THE TIME, MOANING ABOUT HOW SHIT HIS WORTHLESS LIFE WAS! NO, HE DOES WHAT HE IS TOLD WITHOUT A DAMN WORD, AND GETS ON WITH IT!" He paused and took a heavy breath, looking his son in the eyes. "Why cant you be more like Dean?" he whispered sadly, talking even more to himself, than Sam._

_Sam stood there, shock written on his features. He had never though he was that bad. Was he really that much of a failure, and an inconvenience to them both? Would his father really prefer it if he were dead? He gulped, the tears he had been holding back, spilling down his face, and looked across at Dean who had been sitting eerily still throughout the whole argument. Sam caught his eye as he looked up, and his breath hitched when Dean slowly shook his head in bitter disappointment and looked away. _

"Oh God" _he thought to himself "I_ really **am** that bad." _He bit his lips and stared at the ground. He looked back up to his father who was now sitting down on a chair, and had his eyes closed. He opened them when Sam spoke again. _

"_Sorry dad, but im not Dean." he whispered his voice catching. "Now piss off and stay the hell away from me." He turned sharply, his face crumpling and charged up the stairs before either of the two Winchester men could say a word, jumped onto his bed and drew his legs up, sobbing into them ._

He wiped his eyes and his sleeve, uncurled his limbs and stood up. He needed to get out of here, and soon. He launched himself across the room at speed, his blurred eyes making it a little trickier for him, and grabbed his duffel bag, and proceeded to pack his things.

He paused for while when he picked up his hunting knife. He thought about all the times when he had used it, and not just for them monsters.

He rolled up his sleeves and gazed at his arm. Six or seven short white scars, each about 2 inches long stood out from his bronze skin. He remembered the last time he had used it, which was only a month ago.

Dean and John never knew about what he did. Sam had done well to hide them in gym class from his friends, and made sure that at home he always wore long sleeves.

He pressed the blade against the soft skin and dragged it. Blood quickly seeped out of it and Sam could have almost cried with relief. He lifted off the blade and stuffed it into his bag, hurried into the bathroom across the hall, rinsed his arm and shot back into his room. He picked up a few more things, shoved them into his bag, and then rolled back down his sleeve.

He stopped suddenly when he heard a thumping of someone coming up the stairs. His heart pounded in his chest and he stood quietly, walking to the window. He unlocked the latch and put his hand on the sill. He got ready to jump, when the door opened and Dean walked in.

Both Winchesters stopped for a few seconds before Dean moved forwards shakily, taking in the sight before him. Sam was standing with his leg against the bottom of the window, perched ready to jump. His eyes flickered to the floor where a spot of blood glimmered in the evening light.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Sam beat him there.

"Don't Dean. Just don't." With that, he hitched his bag onto his shoulder, pushed forwards, and leapt. Then fell.

Dean gasped loudly, and swore. He ran to the window, getting ready to jump after Sam. He could see his little brother on haunches, breaking his fall, and stand up. He looked up at Dean and sped forward, just as his older brother followed him out of the window.

Sam sprinted to the front gate, and shot like a bullet through it, and turned right, heading down the road. Dean landed, cursed softly as his foot twisted beneath him. He grunted and tried to stand, but failing.

"_DAD!!" _he roared, grasping his ankle tightly. He grimaced and looked back up trying to locate Sam. But he was gone. Dean shifted onto his knees, then attempted to stand. He hopped forwards, holding onto the side of the fence next to the house, and moved onto the road.

He could see Sam's retreating back, and yelled his name. Sam paused, glanced back. He saw Dean standing there, making no effort to move, and he turned and continued running.

"_Like they need me anyway," _he thought bitterly, and turned down a side road, only stopping one more time, tears rolling down his cheeks.

-:0:-

Dean stood there, his heart sinking desperately as he yelled Sammy's name. The door banged loudly behind him and John sprinted out, calling for Dean. He rushed up next to him as Dean sunk to the ground.

"Dean, DEAN! What's wrong? Where's Sam?" he looked at his eldest, and seeing the look on his face, he had realised what he had done.

He had driven away his Sammy.

-:0:-

_TBC_.


	2. Tormented

WOW

**WOW! Thank you for your great reviews! I didn't expect them to be so good :D**

**Ok, updating as fast as I can now, but I give no promises as to how quick :S**

**Anyway, next chapter up! Please leave a comment: D Ack, this is short, I know, but promise you now, the next chapter WILL be longer!**

**-:0:-**

Sam walked. And walked and freaking walked! The evening wore on, and all Sam had done was walk! The cool night air created shivers which ran down his spine constantly. The harsh wind made his hair go in his face, the long walk tired his legs out and the stinging of his arm caused him to wrap his hand around the cut.

All in all, this hadn't been one of his most bright ideas.

To add to all of this, even after walking for the past 3 hours straight, not one single car had passed him, and he couldn't see any road signs. There were occasional houses dotted around, and he had actually knocked on one of the houses doors, only to be greeted with a lengthy silence. He had guessed nobody was home, and really couldn't be bothered to try again on a different house.

Although, one good thing had come out of his journey. It had given him time to think, given him time to recollect all the spiteful things that had been hurled his way, and it made him hold his head high and forget about Dean and John for a while.

But, with the pride of standing up for himself, also came the mounding grief. His chest grew heavy when he thought of the way Dean had looked at him. His eyes brimmed with tears when he thought about the words that John had carelessly slung at him.

A part of him hated himself for not being more like Dean. For not being the perfect son, and for not being good enough for his own father. But, the other part of him hated John and Dean.

Who were _they_ to tell him he wasn't good enough? Who were_ they _to call him useless?

Of course, his self-loathing side gave him an easy answer: _because it's true. _But his other, more confident side battle hard against the accusations.

In the end, his self-loathing side won, and he sank to the ground, sobbing loudly and self-pityingly into his hands. But a while later, it was over. He steeled himself, and made himself a promise. He would never give them the satisfaction of letting them win, no matter how much truth came from their lips.

He stood up, stretching his legs, sniffed loudly and walked.

"_Always with the bloody walking!" _he said to himself.

Then grinned.

-:0:-

"Dad, we can't just sit here, we have to go after him!" Dean yelled loudly for the fourteen-millionth time that day. He was sitting in a chair, his ankle raised and a think bandage wrapped tightly around it.

"No Dean! He will come back. Always has been a pansy. He'll just chicken out like the pathetic moron he is and come crawling back. You'll see." John said smugly, relaxed back, and took a large swig from a bottle of beer. He had his legs up on the kitchen table, and was precariously balanced on two back legs of a chair.

"_What the hell has gotten into you?_" Dean screeched. "Sammy ran away because of you, and now you think he'll come back? Who the bloody hell do you think you are?" He was trembling with rage, and made to stand up. He was stopped by a gun being pointed his way by a trembling hand. Dean rolled his eyes. "_Drunk dad. Not good," _he thought.

"You will NEVER question my order again, and you will never speak to me like that again!" John said coolly, not even bothering to yell. He knew that this way frightened Dean more than his booming voice.

"Yes sir." He whispered quietly and sat down again.

They sat in silence for the next 5 minutes, and in those few minutes, it hade given Dean a chance to think of what to say to his father.

"Dad, why did you say that stuff? What in the world possessed you to say that? He's your son!" he hissed the last past, putting major emphasis of the word _son. _

John smirked, stood up, lobbed the bottle of beer on the floor, opened the fridge and plucked out another one.

"I believe that _you _were the one to agree with me, were you not? Did you not shake your head at the freak, and when he was gone say that he _deserved _it?" He sat back down and wrenched the lid of the beer off with his teeth.

"I never said he _deserved _it!" he snarled at John, "I say he should quit being a baby!" he looked at his father once again before shaking his head in denial. His gaze flickered down and he stared at the floor.

Dean froze as a thought struck him and he looked at his father once again. He looked into his eyes, and saw something he didn't recognise. Something that shouldn't have been there. He murmured something that made him gasp in shock and fear at the outcome.

"Christo."

-:0:-

Sam dragged his hand through his mop of hair and sighed heavily. The stars shone brightly above him as he sat down against a tree trunk. He needed a rest and that seemed like a secluded place to stay. He took off his bag a dropped it next to him. Opening the zipper, he rummaged around and drew out his hunting knife once more.

He loved the way it reflected the moonlight. It was almost entrancing. It's smooth blade, so comforting to him. He sighed once again after staring lovingly at it and put it back in the bag. He could still feel his arm burning and itching from earlier, so he scratched it. "_It was nearly as good" _he thought.

He settled down once more and looked up in the trees. Nothing moved. Not a bird, nor a squirrel. Nothing. Completely empty.

He frowned. There was something not quite right.

He shrugged off his thoughts and leaned against the trunk of the tree. He closed his eyes after a moment and listen to the wind quietly blowing. The worst of it had died out only a little while, and he was glad. He had packed himself a jumper, and was wearing it, but he still felt the chills making their way up his body. Soon after, he fell asleep.

And soon after he fell asleep, did something move. Something _large. _Something not friendly.

The figure moved forward silently, watching the sleeping Sam Winchester. It could have laughed. It had been trailing Sam all evening and night, just waiting for him to fall asleep or make a mistake. And mistake he had made.

It moved forward, chuckling darkly, in a low voice, revealing it's self to be male and drew out a gun from his back pocket. He stepped towards Sam, making sure he didn't stand on anything that could break and give away his position, mucking up all his beautiful work.

A few seconds later, he hunched down so he was face-to-face with Sam's face and looked at him full of lust. He braced himself and moved his hand forward, placing the gun against the boy's neck.

Sam jolted awake, and instantly froze as the cool surface of the gun was placed firmly against him, trapping him. He looked at the person holding the gun and gasped.

"No where to run now, boy!"

_TBC_


	3. Exorcisms

Howdy people

**Howdy people! May I just say a massive thank you to all of the people that have reviewed already! They really help spur me to write more. Once again, thanks a lot, and please review again!**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! Ok, now I know I said this chapter was going to be longer, but, I really struggled for what to put. I don't really like this chapter. It's too rushed, but, I couldn't think of any fillers! **

**-:0:-**

Sam screamed, the cry nearly ripping his vocal chords. He frantically tried to shove the gun away from his neck, but the bite of it was to strong and he whimpered.

The man snarled into his ear and Sam could smell the reek of alcohol on his breath. He shoved the point of the gun further into Sam's neck. It was pressing against him so tightly the area around it was sound turning red with strain. Sam craned his neck back, the muscles in it stretching taut.

"Another sound out of your mouth and you'll be regretting it you son-of-a bitch." The Man growled harshly into his ear. Sam felt the click of the gun as he cocked it to show he wasn't kidding. Sam looked at him and saw him grinning sadistically back at him. He cringed.

Sam's mind was going haywire. He ha stopped his struggles, but mentally kicked himself for so stupidly dropping his guard. _"What would Dad and Dean say if they saw me now?" _He thought, his face turning a slight pink in shame. He closed his eyes as he trembled. _"Maybe they were right. Maybe I am useless." _

"Open your eyes damn it!" The man barked. Sam quickly complied, deciding that it would be best if he went along for now. His lip quivered, but he refused to let himself cry. He had made a promise to himself, and he planned to keep it.

Little did he know that his promise was going to be broken many times.

He looked at the man holding him. He was unshaven and wild. His eyes roamed around Sam's body, and Sam suddenly felt very self-conscious. The man's eyes were hungry, and desperate. Sam almost pitied him. Almost. The man's eyes were also bloodshot, and they lit up maliciously when he looked at Sam's quivering body.

Sam couldn't suppress a slight shudder that came to him when he felt a rough, callous hand on his arm. He instantly flinched, and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. The man moved his hand up, causing Sam to try and move back, but he couldn't, as the tree trunk was blocking his escape. He held his breath as the hand came to a rest on his shoulder.

"So beautiful." He heard the man whisper, and then there was a sigh. He reached into his pocked, temporarily removing his hand from Sam.

Sam had to admit to himself, he was scared witless, but he didn't know why. He had face Wendigos, Poltergeists, Demons, and even Spirits, but he had never been as afraid as he was right now.

Sam's breathing began to speed up rapidly, until they were almost coming out as gasps. He gulped, trying to moisten his dry throat, but was unsuccessful.

As the man removed his hand from his pocket, he brought with him what Sam thought looked like a piece of cloth. Although, he couldn't be too sure, because at that very moment, his head was forced up by the butt of the gun, making face the sky.

Suddenly, the man's hand darted out and clamped over Sam's mouth. The cloth was jammed over both his nose and his mouth. He gasped in, then yelled loudly into the material. He struggled, but within mere seconds, black dots began to dance in his vision and his head swam. Sure enough, a minute later, he was slumped at the foot of the tree, unconscious. His last fleeting thought before he fell to the drug was one he did not want to have to say, or even think again.

"_Dean. Please, please help!"_

The man sighed happily, and smiled triumphantly as he had watched the boy struggle before unconsciousness clamed him, and he slid to the side.

"So beautiful." He whispered again. "And all mine!"

-:0:-

"What the f- " Dean yelled, jumping back in seat as a then-empty beer bottle was thrown across at his head. He looked incredulously at his father, but ducked sharply as the glass flew over his head and connected with the wall behind him. It shattered and the shards rained down on him. He closed his eyes and hastily put his arms over his head to protect himself from the falling glass.

When the last of it hed fallen, Dean lowered his arms and stared at his 'father'. Or rather, his father's body that was being played like a puppet. _" Damn it, I knew something was wrong! He would never say something like that to Sammy, and now he's gone!" _he thought, annoyed with himself for being so careless, and for not realising sooner that something was wrong. He moved to stand up.

Before he could take one step though, he felt himself fly across the room. His back connected with the wall with a loud bang and he yelled out in pain. Struggling frantically, he tried to break free of the hold over him, but was unsuccessful. He grunted as he was plucked away from the wall and thrown to the other side of the room, landing against the kitchen cabinets. The wood broke beneath his back and splintered. A large peice dug into the lower side of his back. He roared as it sliced into his flesh, but a laughing droned out his yells, and he grimaced.

"Poor little Deany!" The gruff voice of his father said mockingly. "All alone now Sammy boy has up and left you!" he threw his head back and barked with laughter. "Well, let me tell you." His demeanor changed instantly, and his voice turned icy cold. "When you're dead and gone, that leaves Sammy all in the open, free for me! It will be easy, seeing as he is week and pathetic, and I will finaly be ridden of the Winchesters that have made my life a living hell for the past years." He smirked smugly.

Dean struggled for a breath. "N-not if I ha-have anything to do with it!"

Summoning all of his remaining strength and pulled out his gun from the back pocket of his jeans. He winced slightly and his hands came back bloody. Turning it towards the demon, he fired, using the whole clip. Tears sprung to his eyes as one of the bullet struck the demon in the shoulder, and it howled loudly. He twisted away from the other rock-salt bullets, but the damage had been done, and he dropped to the floor, writhing in agony. Dean took this chance and began to chant loudly.

He internally rolled his eyes as he was released from the grip of the demon and went crashing to the floor. He landed with a scream onto his back, which pushed the piece of wood further in. He took a second to regain his posture and continued with the ritual.

Drawing his last breath, he finished it, nearly screaming over the demon's yells.

Suddenly, a black smoke rose out of his father and twisting into the air. It hung there for a moment before turning into nothing.

Dean crumpled into himself and the pain seared in his back. He knew his injury wasn't life threatening, but it still hurt like a bitch. He looked up, tears in his eyes and saw his father moaning. They both lay in silence for a few minutes.

Suddenly, John sat up, blinking.

His shoulder hat ceased to hurt at all, and he frowned.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked. Then turning to Dean, he gasped and moved forward.

"Dean, are you ok?" he said urgently. His face darkened. "Where is Sam, Dean?"

_TBC_


	4. Entrapment

Wow, I'm touched by all of the great reviews so quickly

**Wow, I'm touched by all of the great reviews so quickly! Thanks so much, and I hope this was a quick enough update! It's short, I know, but I think its one of the better chapters!**

**Enjoy!**

**-:0:-**

"What the hell do you mean, gone Dean?" John said angrily, giving his son a glare. It had taken the best part of an hour for the younger man to explain what had happened while his father had been possessed. It seemed it had had still not sunk in that Sam was gone and not coming back. Dean sighed wearily and returned his father's gaze.

"I mean, he thinks that you hate him and that he's a worthless piece of shit." His voice was drained and his eyes drooped from tiredness. He slumped back further into the couch and groaned quietly as his now-cleaned and bandaged wood-free back rubbed against the material of his shirt.

"_I am so not doing well today." _He moaned to himself, wincing again when John sat down next to him, his head in his hands.

"God, what have I done?" he whispered shakily. His voice was desperate and Dean could have sworn he heard it brake.

"Dad, did you mean what you said about Sammy?" Dean asked in a sceptic voice.

"Wha- No, of course not son, but how is _he _gonna know that? He's freakin gone and we have no way of finding him!" he cried, frustration taking hold of him.

They lapsed in silence for the next few minutes, with nothing but their occasional sighs of exhaustion keeping them company. Suddenly a thought struck John and he frowned deeply.

"Dean?" he questioned.

"Mmhmm?" came the tired reply.

"What did _you _say to Sam? I mean, he adores you! He wouldn't have just up and left you." A frown once again graced his features and his eyes were stern.

"Well, I didn't _say _anything as such." He looked sheepishly at his dad. "I just kinda shook my head when- OH MY GOD, DAD!" he yelped suddenly, causing John to jump and give Dean an uncertain look. "Check whether Sam took his cell with him or not!" he commanded. John stared at him for another few seconds before shrugging and bolting upstairs, feet hammering up the wooden surface.

A few minutes (and several crashes from upstairs) later, heavy footsteps announced John's return, and his face was set into that of a glum look.

"Its gone." He said dejectedly, shaking his head bitterly and staring at the ground.

"That's great!" Dean smiled, his face brightening instantly. "We can track his cell from the computer and find out exactly where he is and haul his scrawny ass back home!" He grinned proudly at his father who smirked at back at him.

"So, we can find Sa-" he was cut off by a sharp trilling that chirped loudly from Dean's direction.

"Speak of the devil." He chuckled heartily to himself.

"Oh my god." Came a whisper from Dean and before John could quiz his sons actions, he had pressed the answer button and was yelling into his phone.

"Sammy, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" he screeched, loud enough to make John grimace.

"Hello Dean." A calm voice answered Dean's yells. "I'm afraid Sam can't come to the phone right now, he's a little _tied up._" It was rough and harsh, and sounded slightly tipsy.

"What the hell have you done with him?" he roared into the phone. He heard a short bark of laughter.

"There's no need to be like that!" the voice said in mock offence, chuckling loudly. "I just thought that you might like to know where _gorgeous _little Sammy is." Dean was grinding his teeth to dust as he imagined the smirk on this guy's face.

"I swear to God, if you lay one of your filthy, perverted hands on him then-"

"It's a bit late for that!" the reply snarled "Here, would you like a word?" Dean heard a shuffle, and then suddenly Sam's terrified voice reached his ears.

"H-hey Dean." Sam's voice croaked.

"Sam! Oh God, Sam! I swear we'll come and find you and send that evil bastard to hell! Dad didn't mean what he said, he was possessed! That wasn't him talking! Oh, Sam, DAMN IT!" There was a pause.

"Wasn't him?" Sam whispered, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"NO! Sam, tell me where you-" Dean was cut off, and he heard a muffled yell from Sam.

"Ok, you've had your time." growled the first voice in his ear. "Now here's the deal. You don't come looking for Sam, and he lives. You _do _look for him, and his head will be decapitated from the rest of him! So, we have a deal?" he spat down the line.

"Ok, let's change that a bit." Dean began to argue, "You give us Sammy and we send your ass to hell. Now, how does _that _sound?" he growled fiercely.

Suddenly, there was a cry a pain, accompanied by a scream.

"DEAN!"

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY BROTHER, NOW, YOU SON-OF-A BITCH!" Dean yelled desperately back.

"You have 48 hours." The voice said simply.

"I-" Dean was cut off by a blank dial tone. "Shit!" he screamed, throwing the phone hard at the floor.

"Dean, what the hell happened to Sam? Who was that?" John said calmly, staring pointedly at him.

"Dean?"

-:0:-

_An hour earlier._

Sam groaned and screwed up his face, raising a hand to his pounding head. His arm felt heavy and a loud scraping assaulted his ears as he moved.

He tried to open his eyes, but immediately groaned again as the sun that was streaming through a gap in two pieces of wood that boarded up a window, hit his face.

He was laying flat on the floor in a small, dingy room.

He grunted and placed the palms of each hand against the rotten floor boards and pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking down at himself, he noticed large, think metal chains wrapped tightly around both his wrists and the same with his ankles. He frowned and followed where they went with his eyes.

They led across the floor, and over to the wall on his right. There was a large metal plate that was around half way up it, and the chains were looped round a large hook that had been moulded back round and melted, to form a C shape.

He cringed and sighed. Once again he had gotten himself into trouble and the only way for him to get out was by Dean and his Dad coming to his rescue.

Once again, he had let his guard drop and gotten himself kidnapped.

He seemed to have a special talent for it. He rolled his eyes at the thought and shivered as a cold breeze blew into the room and made goose-bumps erupt on his arms.

His face felt stiff in the delicate wind and he frowned, reaching up to his lip. He hissed and pulled his finger away and when he looked at it, it was smeared in blood. He groaned and moved his fingers to his cheek, where a large gash ran from his eye down to his jaw bone.

"_Aww crap, what the hell am I gonna do now?"_

_TBC_


	5. Rachael

**Wow, I have to say a big thank you to the response that I got for the story so far. And also, I must apologise for the lateness of this chapter, but I really have been incredibly busy, as I have had weddings, paintballing, karting, archery and a birthday bash to go to! So, I have a real excuse, but I hope I have made up for the length of the update with the quality of this chapter? Oh, and I KNOW this chapter is short, but I have already written the next chapter (in rough) and it is much longer!**

**-:0:-**

Two slow, agonising hours later, found Sam awakening from a pitiful slumber, into a painful silence, apart from his own breathing and shouts for him to be let free. He had tried everything he could think of to get out of his prison-like cell. He had twisted his wrists as far as he could, until small rivulets of blood ran from underneath the chains, and he was yelping in agony as the metal tore at his flesh. The chains weren't budging, so he had then tried a different approach.

He crawled over to the wall, where the large metal plate that kept him there was. He raised his arms above his head, making sure not to smack himself in the face with the chains, and then brought them down on the metal with the chain. The metal-on-metal caused a shock to travel up his fingers and shake the bones in his hands. He yelped and pulled them away, falling backwards.

He lay there for a few minutes, trying to receive the feeling back in them, before he grabbed either side of the chains on the hook. He tightened his grip then yanked with all he could. Gritting his teeth, he shook the chain wildly before letting go, and landing hard on his butt. They hadn't moved at all. He let out a breath before placing his feet on the wall, just below the metal plaque. Putting all of his weight onto the wall, he pulled again, twisting and turning it as hard as he could.

Growing angry, he growled and let go again. He turned round and put his back against the wall, leaning heavily against it. He dragged his legs up, wincing when the chain scraped across the floor, causing his already pounding head to feel as if someone was using his head for drum practise.

Clenching his eyes shut, he relaxed his aching back and groaned again, softly this time, tears threatening to fall once more.

For the next twenty minutes, he sat there wrapped up in his own thoughts of how to get out of that hell-hole.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted abruptly with a series of loud bangs and scrapes that made him sit further up, his body tensing. He stared apprehensively at the iron-bar door.

Muffled yells and screams accompanied scuffling and Sam's eyes turned wide as the sound got closer.

He nearly yelped when he saw the body of the man appear in front of the door, shrouded in shadow. He could just see his face grinning madly at him, the piggy eyes settling on Sam's form.

"I thought you might like some company, as you seemed so lonely." Sam shivered at the voice and glared at him fiercely, his heart pounding in his ears.

The man kept his eyes on Sam a few seconds longer, smiling creepily before he turned to the side and extending his hands out. He grabbed hold of something- _someone- _and dragged them in front of the door, hands and legs bound in a similar way to Sam's. Terrified eyes sought out Sam's and he _did _yell out this time, when he instantly recognised the form in the guy's arms.

"_Rachael!" _

-:0:-

"Sam is missing, kidnapped and all you can say is _don't worry_?" Dean spat at his father in disbelief. They sat, gazing at each other angrily.

"What can I say Dean?" John shot back at his son, giving him just as angry glare.

The sat looking at each other for a few seconds before John stood up sighing, and walked to the T.V, switching it on. Giving Dean an unreadable look, he sat again as it blared into life.

"_-broke free from Wisconsin central prison 2 days ago has yet to be found. 36 year old Jack Dover is to be considered armed and dangerous, as he was only 7 years through a full life sentence, on the charges of the kidnapping, sexually assaulting, raping and then murdering 3 teenagers, in the space of 48 hours. The victims were 13 year old Tamara Smith, 14 year old Arron Rayne and 14 year old Sophie Elliot."_

Dean and John sat in a stunned silence, staring at the screen mouths and eyes wide.

_They were in Wisconsin!_

-:0:-

Rachael screamed as the man holding her (originally by the back of the neck), let go of her, before opening the door and throwing her by the hair, face first into the room, with a shaking, bloodied and bruised Sam.

He crawled forward towards her as soon as she hit the floor. He helped her up, and removed the gag from her mouth. His gaze flickered around her face, which was bleeding from a cut to the forehead. It quickly settled on the bruise on her cheek, and then headed back to the door which was now shut, the man was walking away.

"Sam!" she cried out, tears making their way down her face, "Who the hell is that?"

Her breath came in short gasps as he held onto her.

"I have no idea." He breathed back.

He looked at Rachael again, remembering the first time he had met her.

_Flashback__._

"_Good morning class, I hope you all enjoyed you holidays." Mrs Breacher said in her sing-song voice, "We have a new student here today, so I hope you will all make him feel welcome. Samuel Winchester." She smiled at Sam who stood at the front of the class. _

_He managed a weak smirk back, before facing the class again. He felt queasy as he looked at two large boys that were sniggering at the back of the class. They were huge, and looked like they were the sort to cause trouble. He gulped and looked around again._

"_Now, your seat is over there, next to Rachael Danvers." She said, pointing to an empty seat, next to a pretty girl with long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. He smiled at her, and then made his way over to the seat, dropping his bags on the floor. He pulled back the chair and sat down, putting his hands in his lap shyly. _

"_Hey Sam." Rachael said her voice the sweetest sound Sam had ever heard. She grinned and shook his hand. Her skin was smooth and delicate. Sam's stomach fluttered and he looked into her eyes. _

_They released hands and she sat back, facing the front again, listen to Mrs Breacher again as she resumed her speech about the new timetable. _

_Before he knew it, the day had flown by, and Sam was nearly dizzy with all the excitement. _

_He had been situated next to Rachael in all of his classes, and she had been appointed at the end of the tutor period to be Sam's guide for the day._

"Was he the luckiest man alive or what?"_ he thought. _

_At 2:50, the end of day bell rang and he stood up abruptly, Rachael following suit. She lived down the road just next to his and agreed to walk to and from school with him until he got the hang of it, or until Sam asked her to stop, which wasn't likely to happen. _

_They made their way out of the school, bags hoisted on their shoulders, moving out of the way of many people._

_They walked out of the gates and began on what Sam thought was going to be a peaceful walk home. How wrong he was._

_Sam frowned as he heard his name being called form behind him._

"_Oi, Winchester!" a voice snarled. He recognised it instantly and turned to see Pete Doltry with a few of his "gang members" standing not to far away from him._

_Sam groaned and looked at Rachael whose eyes were closed as she sighed._

"_Pete." Sam muttered in polite acknowledgement, turning to face his large classmate. _

"_You get your hands off my girl." Pete growled in a low voice. Sam looked at him for a minute, eyebrows raised before looking at Rachael. _

"_I am NOT, and never WILL BE your "girl" you freaky, stupid, menacing ass-hole." Rachael snarled harshly at him, giving him a death glare. _

_Pete's face changed colours so fast that Sam didn't know possible. _

_From red, to purple, to a nasty green colour, to white._

_Sam snorted and looked at the fiery girl standing next to him. _

"_C'mon, let's go." He laughed and they turned their backs on Pete and his cronies and set off down the street, Sam complimenting Rachael, with a massive grin on his face._

_Two months after that, Sam had asked her out. She agreed, grinning and linking her fingers with his. He also had felt comfortable enough to reveal the truth about what he did, the hunting, his mom, Dean, the creatures. She had taken it remarkably well, and that surprised Sam. He had expected her to blow up, shout at him, and curse him. But she didn't. She smiled, asked why he hadn't told her earlier, and then frowned disapprovingly at him risking his life. _

_She had actually believed the whole story! _

_End of Flashback._

He loved her so much, and placed a kiss on her forehead, hugging her tightly.

"All I know is that I'm getting you out of here, whether that bastard likes it or not, you hear me? He isn't going to lay another finger on you, or so swear it I will salt and burn his ass." He growled menacingly.

_TBC_


	6. Memories

Wow, once again I thank you all for the great reviews, and I'm sorry for the length of this update, I don't actually have an e

**Wow, once again I thank you all for the great reviews, and I'm sorry for the length of this update, I don't actually have an excuse this time :(**

**Anyway, if I didn't reply to any of your reviews, Im very sorry, and I'd just like to take the opportunity to say thanks!**

**The show must go on, and here is the next chapter, which I HOPE is quite long!**

**-:0:-**

_He was cold, so cold, his face pale white. His body lay sprawled, awkwardly, silent, unmoving._

_A girl lay beside him, just as lifeless. Just as dead. No! Not dead! _

_A slight tint of blue graced both lips of them._

_They lay, heads bent, twisted towards each other, as thought asleep. Their fingers interlaced softly, drawing strength, comfort, from the touch._

_The moonlight shone down bright, purposely unto the two small, lowly figures that it held in its breadth. Its white-silver rays made the air around them unceremoniously sparkle, shimmer._

_A loud growling broke the intense serenity of the moment._

_A shrill cry rang out from the distance causing the air around the two bodies to vibrate, shake, the glory in the moon's rays vanishing quickly._

_The cry was desperate, pleading, sadness lacing it. It was a pained yell, an unforgiving howl, wrenched brutally from the deep of the throat._

"_SAMMY!"_

"SAMMY!" Dean yelped, gasping as he jerked up straight in his seat he currently occupied. Beads of cool sweat soaked his forehead and his back out cried out in protest of the sudden movement.

He sat, gasping for breath before putting his arms on his knees, his head in his hands and groaning loudly.

God, that dream had been so... _real._ Sam had been dead. His Sammy, _dead_!A tear rolled down his cheek silently as he knew that that could well have been the case at that very minute. He sat for a while longer, regaining control over his harsh, heavy breathing.

Standing, he stretched, lifting his arms above his head. Slumping them back down a second later, he made his way across the room, squinting through the dull evening light at the clock on the kitchen wall.

9:26pm.

"Holy crap!" Sam had been gone for 5 hours. It had felt like an eternity.

As much as Dean refused to say it aloud, he loved Sam more than anything in the world. When Sam was hurting, he was hurting, when Sam was happy, he couldn't be more pleased.

And when Sam was gone, he was gone, a mere empty shell of his former self.

"Dean?" his father's voice echoed behind him in the quite of the night, breaking him out of his revere. Dean turned to face him and saw a small pistol lodged firmly in John's hands.

Images of his dream suddenly attacked him, head spinning and he wailed before tearing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and dropping to his knees.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he vomited all the food he had eaten that day. His body began to shake.

Feeling a soothing hand on the nape of his neck, he calmed.

He remembered the man times he had looked after Sam when he had been sick. A certain time had stuck out.

_Flashback._

"_Dean!" an 11 year old Sam groaned, pushing his brother's hand away from his forehead. "I'm fine!" he insisted loudly, giving Dean the best death-stare that he could, nose running. _

_Dean gave a humorous laugh and handed his brother a tissue._

"_Sure!" he said half-heatedly "What ever you say Mr I-have-a-temperature-of-104.5!" he snorted as Sam groaned._

"_Just go away Dean!" he said bitterly, not believing that he was saying it to his brother, the only one that cared about him, and faced away, towards the wall. Dean stopped laughing instantly. "Just go make out with one of your little girl-friends and leave me the hell alone!" Sam spat._

_Dean frowned and swallowed hard, taken aback. This was really un-Sammy like. There was something definitely up. _

"_Sam, I'm not-"_

"_Just GO already!" Sam yelled, anger creeping into his tone._

"_Sam-"_

"_Go."_

"_But-"_

"_Go!"_

"_Just listen, I-"_

"_LEAVE ME ALONE!"_

_Dean recoiled. His brother had screamed. Actually _screamed.

_He blanched as he saw tears leaking out of Sam's eyes, dripping down his cheeks._

"_God Sam, what happened?" he said, going into over-protective-older-brother mode. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he wiped at Sam's face, ridding it of the tears that were cascading down it. _

"_It-" Sam broke off and took a shuddered breath before continuing quietly. "It was J-James Doggett and his friends they-" he stopped again, wiping his face with his sleeve. "They said that mom was better off dead than having a pathetic, wimpy son like me and I should go die because it would make e-everyone's l-lives better." He rushed and buried his head into his hands, sobbing profusely. _

_Dean sat, stunned into silence, rage tearing into him. "_They are so DEAD!"_ he yelled in his head, before taking a breath and looking at Sam. He put a hand to the side of his face._

"_Sam. Look at me." He said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. Sam didn't move. He tried again in a slightly firmer voice._

"_Sam. Look. At. Me." He commanded gently, smiling encouragingly at him when Sam's shaggy head looked up and into his eyes._

"_Sam, I swear to God that you mean a hell of a lot more to me than you know. Those kids are stupid, pathetic assholes that won't EVER forget the day that they messed with a Winchester. Now, if you believe a word they said, then you're insane! Sam, I wish that mom were still here everyday and I know in my heart that she would be so gad-damned proud of you. But, just because I wish she were here, doesn't mean I wish you weren't. As for you killing yourself and it making us happier, what kinda bull shit is that? Sam, and even though it pains me to say it- I love you Sammy and if you ever did kill yourself, I would find a way to haul your scrawny ass back and kill you again my self, you hear?" He gave Sam a hard stare, waiting for a reaction._

_A few seconds of silence passed and Dean was about to say something again when Sam looked at him, smirking slightly._

"_Dude." He fixed Dean with a stare. "You said you loved me." He broke into a grin as Dean grimaced. _

"_Yeah, and if you ever tell anyone that I did, you will so regret it, bitch." He tried to mask his smile with a glare but failed._

"_Jerk." Sam replied happily, smiling back. They stayed that way for a while longer, Dean sitting on Sam's bed, stroking his wrist with his thumb lightly, Sam watching him. _

"_Get some rest Sam." He looked his baby brother in the eyes and stood up, walking contentedly to the door._

"_Oh, and if you ever tell anyone about this chick-lick moment then God help you Sam." With that he switched off the light and stepped out side, shutting the bedroom door behind him. _

_Sam smiled, unbeknownst to the fact that Dean was pressed against the door, listening._

"_I love you too Dean." _

_End of Flashback._

"Sam was dead, dad." Dean whispered in a monotone voice, not looking at his father, but still hearing the sigh all the same.

"It was just a dream son. Don't worry about it, we _**will **_get him back." He smiled encouragingly at Dean who just shrugged in response.

This was going to be a _long _day.

-:0:-

"Sam, it's so cold." Rachael shivered, scooting closer to Sam and leaning her head against his shoulder. He looked at her apologetically, and then his eyes travelled to his chained together hands.

"Sorry Rachael." He grumbled, head drooping slightly, "It's gonna be ok." He assured her. Sitting in silence, their breathing was their only company.

"Hello sweet children, I'm so _bored _on my own, how about we play a game?" a voice said, just as gravely, if not more than earlier, shocking them out of their stupor.

They turned to se the man standing as bold as anything out side the room that they had been imprisoned in.

Slowly, he inserted the key into the lock and turned it, effectively opening the door and stepped inside the room.

Sam struggled to his feet, head throbbing wildly and stood in front of Rachael.

"Get back." He murmured to her quietly. She moved backwards. Sam stayed rooted to the spot, drawing up to his full 6"1 and staring plainly into the man's bloodshot eyes.

The he ducked sharply as a metal pipe flew at his face.

Gasping heavily, he jumped to the side as it was the flung at his side.

Suddenly, pain erupted, white hot in his skull. Spots danced in his eyes and he stood against the wall, trying to numb out the screams of his name from Rachael, receiving no such prevail.

He felt the metal again before he saw it smash into his ribs, some surely shattering.

The breath knocked out of him and his stomach bursting in lavishing pain, he slid down the wall, yelling out. The next few minutes passed in a blur.

All he could remember was the pain, the screams.

He lay, curled up in pain, whimpering quietly.

"Say goodbye to your brother Dean."

And his world turned black with a sickening crunch.

_TBC._


	7. Confusion

**Umm. Hi! –Cowers mercifully- I know I haven't updated in a while, but, I uh... :) I do actually blame my dad. He keeps hogging the computer. Grrrr. Oh and I also blame the holidays. And the Supernatural box sets. AND the damn internet. Oh, and kinda myself for just being plain lazy ;) Sorry again and here is the next chapter! God! It's so short! Sorry!**

**Oh, one more thing, now this is a personal request. Can someone please become a umm, like pesterer (lol) for me? Give me a kick up the backside every few days or so to get me writing again? Pretty please?**

**-:0:-**

"Say goodbye to your brother, Dean." Jack smiled crookedly before sending the metal pipe firmly into Sam's already coated-with-blood hairline.

He grinned and shivered in pure delight as blood splattered the pipe and his clenched fist. He dropped it loosely to the floor where it echoed with a sickening clang.

He pulled a face. "Shut UP!" he growled at the girl who's screams dinned the room. Her yells subsided slowly, becoming gasps, shuddering as tears dripped from her face onto the cold floor.

Turning, he made to walk out of the room, but ground to a halt as she spoke behind him.

"_Monster!"_ she spat, glaring at him hatefully with bloodshot eyes.

He laughed loudly and turned to her.

"Oh love, if only you knew!" he chuckled at her, beaming as she lifted her head defensively. He shook his head and moved back to the door. He stepped out of the room and locked it with a loud bang.

As he made to walk, his hand slipped into his back pocket and pulled something out.

Dropping it in front of the door, he smiled triumphantly as the cell fell to the floor, banging against the metal of the door.

"_Too easy!" _He thought, sighing happily as he remembered the time he had done that before.

_Flashback._

"_Tamara Smith." He murmured to himself, "Beautiful name." chuckling, he added, "Shame really!" He looked down to the forlorn body that lay on the floor, twisted at an angle._

_Seeing the lips blue and the skin pale, he stepped over her and lifted the fragile figure up._

_Holding her in his arms, he turned on his heels and walked out of the wooden door that hung on its hinges behind him. He stepped onto the porch and down onto the gravel that crunched beneath his feet. Reaching the trunk of his car, he dropped the body and opened it up._

_He smiled softly at the other two figures that lay next to each other. Bending down, he picked up the girl once more and placed her gently next to them. He stood to admire his own work before remembering he had a call to make._

_Slamming the trunk closed, he walked back into the house and pulled his cell from his pocket. He relished at the blood making it slick._

_Dialling the number, he waited as it rung. A soft beep and a grunt told him he had an answer._

"_What?" a gruff voice said._

_Smiling proudly, he replied. "It's Dover."_

"_Yes, I know. What am I, stupid?" The smile slid from his face a little._

"_No, I-"_

"_Well?"_

"_Oh, it's done." The grin plastered his face again._

"_Good. I have a new one."_

_Jack's face lit up._

"_Who?"_

"_Little Sammy Winchester."_

"_Uh, did you say Winchester?" Jack frowned in recognition, "You mean tall guy, black hair. Nearly put a bullet through my head for knockin' into his kid?" He asked._

"_Yes, that one. How many more do you know? He has got the tendency to be violent." Jack could hear the distaste in his voice._

"_Hmm, well, just give me the-"_

_A scream rang out behind him, making him yell and turn around._

_The windows smashed. Dozens of police officers swarmed through them. _

_He dropped the phone._

"_Holy shit!"_

_End of flashback._

And now, he grinned, he had finaly got his boy!

-:0:-

"_Say goodbye to your brother, Dean."_

"What the-" Dean gasped, hands grabbing at the sides of his head, squirming painfully.

"Dean? What is it son?"

"Its-" he began, but cried out as his legs buckled beneath him. A scream, so loud, full of terror and pain resounded in his head.

"Sam!" he yelled before groaning and falling onto his hands.

He felt John's hand on his back and he grit his teeth. Looking up at him, a look of desperation shone in his features.

"I-I heard Sam. A- Uh, in my head. It- it was like he was right here!" He scrunched up his face in confusion. Taking a deep breath, he continued "He, w-was screaming, and I heard Dover. He, uh, he said _say goodbye to your brother Dean!"_

A pause, seconds of silence flew by, Dean looking at John, John frowning back. "Dad?"

His face couldn't have been paler. John took a breath, silently willing himself not to crack in front of Dean.

"You... uh... Dean?"

"Yes sir?" Question laced his son's trembling voice.

"I honestly don't know!"

-:0:-

"Sam, c'mon, please!" Rachael whispered desperately, trying for the millionth time to arouse him. Tears crawled, still, down her face. She knelt down, next to him, cringing at the blood on his face, flowing freely from a large cut on his forehead. She lent forward, gently putting her hands on his limp arm. Shaking him softly, she silently pleaded him. She watched as his face remained slack.

Chocking on a sob, she tucked her grimy hair back from her face.

"SAM!" she yelled loudly, shaking him even more vigorously. Suddenly his eyes sprang open and he gasped, coughing.

"Sam!" Rachael cried, before quickly helping him to sit up. He opened his eyes blearily and looked at her face. Coughing once more, he cleared his throat and turned to her.

"Holy _crap _that hurt!" he mumbled, voice cracking. He was enveloped in a hug by Rachael but groaned as she crushed his bruised or more likely broken ribs.

"Oh my God, im sorry!" she gasped, pulling away. She stared at him for a few seconds before hugging him again, being more careful of his broken form.

"Aww, no fun!" Rachael screamed, looking around for Jack, recognising the voice.

"You know, I always say, if you want something done properly... _use your hands!"_

Sam choked and cold hands wrapped tightly around his neck. He flailed his legs, grasping at the fingers, killing him. "Sam! No!" Rachael screamed, looking in disbelief as he was lifted right off the floor... and slammed backwards into the wall.

_TBC._


	8. Darkness

Hi there

**Hi there! I think its time for a little shout-out don't you?**

**Here's to all the people that have review my story so far:**

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**Now, lastly to those who alerted it:**

**110283, Adara-chan63, Azure the Dragonlady, Brown-eyed Angel1234, CarolH, Charriu, Ciya, CoraRodney, Courtney N, Dark Toy, Drama Dreamer08, Elizabeth Goode, Hilz72, KSanders, Kayla Cullen, Knyghtshade, Leaf2010, Onthnis, Pace1818, Palo Alto, PastPtOfObsession, Piers549, Poaetpainter, Raven524, RedDragen, RhianaStar, Scifidiva, Supernatural Nightmare, Surreptitiously, Tandakku, UThnkUrFunny IThnkImAdorable, Wondergirlxox, abalone1, andrejkau, avidreader33, blue peanut m and m, Butterflygal291, Charmed1of2, criminally charmed, deejay83, emmy69, ephiny63, fireball1012, friendly, funkyspunk, gothraven89, infomatic, mel087, micmimi, mollieclarke, paranoidxkat, poptarts-and-pepsi, sam0and0hannah, sammygirl1963, sentarla, shybird, slader91, suicidalqueen, and supernatural4ever!**

**Just saying a massive thank you to EVERYONE that has had ANYTHING to do with this story!**

**Now, on with it! And just to warn you, this chapter is very short, but I thought I would leave you with a LOVELY cliff-hanger!**

**-:0:-**

"But... you're supposed to know! What the hell is happening to me? God dad, why could I hear people inside my _head?!_" Dean cried, glaring into his hands. His back pressed firmly against a wall, his legs were outstretched in front of him. Lifting his head gingerly out of his hands he turned to stare at John.

"Dean, for crying out loud just leaves it! More important things are at stake here! We'll deal with that later!" John barked harshly, returning the glare at his oldest. Dean hung his head resignedly. He sighed and turned his head to the side.

"I know." He whispered, defeated. _"God, Sam. I'm so sorry." _He moaned to himself.

John looked disheartenedly at his son's dishevelled form and closed his eyes wearily, taking a deep breath. "So, you didn't hear anything else that would help us locate Sam?" he looked at Dean, eyes beseeching, unable to clear them emotion, so settling for panicked. Unable to show his son how "strong" he was.

Dean scrunched up his face, taking himself back a few hellish minutes to when he had heard the voices. Sighing as he replayed it in his head a thousand times, he shook his head, looking apologetically up at John. They were quiet as John turned away looking forlorn. Suddenly, his earlier thought struck him and he began to nod.

"Aaaaargh, his phone! Damnit!" he said, more to himself than his dad, "Dad, grab the laptop, and I'll meet you in the car!" He spared a glance at his hands as the placed them on the floor beside him and pushed himself up. He winced as his back pulled and a sharp pain shot through his head.

Slamming his shoulders against the wall to keep himself up, he gasped and looked expectantly at John. Snorting, he shook his head. "Gah, im not going anywhere for a while!"

-:0:-

"_You gotta be freaking kidding me!" _his mind screamed as he kicked out towards the guy holding him. Grimacing as he felt the shudder of his feet connecting with bone, he grabbed the hands that were crushing his throat and gasped slightly, desperately attempting to get air into his lungs. Hearing a grunt as he struck out with his feet again, he pried the fingers away from his neck, coughing.

Suddenly, his head smashed back against the wall, vision swimming violently. Dark spots appeared in his eyes and his skull burst with pain, flashes searing through it. Giving a small shout of indignation, he brought his knees up swiftly and squirmed as he made contact. He felt himself drop to the floor, out of the clutches of the man, and landed hard on his feet. Wobbling for a few seconds, he tried to regain his balance. As he did so he snuck a glance at Rachael and felt adrenalin surge through him rapidly. He kicked out his feet again, falling onto his back.

He almost laughed aloud when he saw the body crash to the floor with a thud. Seizing the only opportunity he had, he drew back all of his remaining strength into his curled-up fists and let them fly into his face, chains-and-all.

Hearing a satisfying crack as his head connected with the floor, he breathed hard as the man's head fell limply to the side.

He looked up at Rachael and half smiled at her, exhausted. A few seconds ticked by as she looked at him, face pale, shaking immensely. She shook her head and was about to say something when her face changed and she screamed his name.

Suddenly, without warning a blinding pain shot through his chest. He felt his mouth as it began to open, but it was abruptly snapped shut, teeth banging together sharply. He felt his arms move and his body sway, without his mind fully registering it.

He heard a gasp from Rachael and looked up to her to see what was wrong. As the sweat mingled with blood on his face he stared at her, trying desperately to focus on her face.

He looked down again as the sounds became distant and dull. The screams, the laughing, the crying all disappearing, all... mingling into one. And there was something else. By what he knew and could remember, the room he was in had four walls. A box. But, now it was different. Changing. The walls were moving, bending into each other. Even the light was swirling around.

He couldn't understand it.

As he stared, the colours changed. From black to white, then black again. As he moved, flashed of bright colour darted around. Blue, yellow, orange and pink... all blurred into one.

And also, there was the red of blood. He looked down again and was surprised to see a bright piece of something yellow, like wood in his chest. An irregular shape of crimson was spreading across his shirt. He suddenly became aware of the world fading. The colours dulled into nothingness and everything seemed to mix into one.

The sounds grew quieter and quieter, as if he was moving far away. His stomach swirled and his face grew steadily paler, along with his vision. He lifted his head and was faintly amused to see the world turn sideways then bump as his head hit the stone floor.

And, in that sudden movement, the pain stopped. Just a feeling of tiredness and resignation.

It was as though he had been pulled underwater, and finaly, when he thought nothing could become worse, Sam Winchester smiled and closed his eyes.

_TBC._


	9. Faces

**Hehe, hello all my dear friends and readers. I'm baaack! (Receives glares.) **

**Umm, I really am sorry for not updating! Honest! (Readers put away pitchforks.)**

**There we go :) **

**So, yes, I truly am sorry for the massive delays in updating anything. To tell the truth, I have struck a massive writers block! For anything, my mind has gone totally blank. I also just need to say, thank you to quite a lot of people, for making me see sense, and giving me that boot up the backside, and henceforth, I am now continuing with this story. **

**All of those who absolutely hate me for not updating the others will have to bare with me for a few more weeks, but I have finally got my own computer set up and running in my room, and I hope to now get out regular updates for all of my stories! This story is the first to be updated as it is my favourite, (well obviously, it's Supernatural!) but, I am also beginning to think of an ending to my HSM story too. **

**Just a note:**

**Some people have said that the last chapter of this story had them slightly confused, but fear not, that is all part of the plan! **

**Thank you to EVERYONE that has either reviewed or read any of my stories, I greatly appreciate it, and I will take any advice, comments or complaints about them, and take them all to heart.**

**And now, without further ado, the next, highly waited on (by me mostly hehe) chapter of **_**Lost in the Dark! **__**Oh and by the way, this chapter doesn't have any real action in it, but it was just something I had to write. Next chapter will have more, as I already have a plan! **_

-:0:-

John had never heard his eldest scream before. It really wasn't pretty. He could do nothing as he watched his son squirm in his seat, as though trying to break free of an invisible grasp. Slamming his foot heavily on the brake of the Impala that had been cruising down the road, tearing at well over seventy miles-per-hour, he twisted his head, seeing Dean smash his fists into his thighs and throw back his head so far, John could see the muscles in his neck stretching. Flinging himself towards his suffering son, he tore off his seat belt and roughly grabbed Dean's head and stroked the side of his face in a calming manner.

"Son, son, you gotta talk to me. What's going on?" his voice was reflecting the barrier he was trying to keep, and not allow any hints of the terror he was feeling inside show through. Slowly, he could see Dean's breathing evened out, and he sighed inwardly. Suddenly, Dean spoke, his voice soft, yet scratchy, as if he had not spoken for months.

"Something's happened, Dad. Oh god... he… I saw Sam. He's, uh, that bastard has done something to him. I…" He trailed off, before turning to look his father in the eyes. John could see a haunted look in them, and he shuddered at the thought of what Dean could have seen. "We need to go. Now." It wasn't a statement, it was an order. John stared at his son for a few more seconds, his face contorting in confusion, before slowly nodding his head and turning back to the wheel of the car.

Glancing down, John looked at the laptop that Dean had set up in the car. It had been on his son's lap, but had fallen off and dropped heavily to the floor. Picking it up, he opened the screen and gazed at the blinking dot on a map. Dean had been able to do what he had said, and they had traced Sam's phone to a house, only a few miles away.

It would take roughly half an hour to get there if he was going slowly, but that he did not intend to do. Putting the car in gear, he floored the gas peddle and they shot off down the road, Dean's laboured breath the only sound the two making.

As they shot down another road, John frowned and broke the tense silence. "What happened back there Dean?"

Risking another look at the laptop, his stomach clenched painfully to see that it would only take a few more minutes to get to Sammy.

"I saw Sam, dad." Dean's face was a mixture of worry, pain and heavily concealed guilt. Only John could tell about the guilt, as it was cleverly disguised. He was good at reading Dean, but always fell second best to his youngest. The two shared a special bond, something that John silently envied, wishing he had that connection with both of them. "He was… in this room. I could see him, as though I were there. It was so weird. He was being attacked by this man… I couldn't see his face. I tried to move, but I couldn't help him, in fact it was like I was frozen in place, unable to do anything. Sam managed to get in few hits in. I tried calling to him, but I couldn't hear my voice… This guy produced some needle thing… it was huge, and he plunged it into Sam. That was when I came back to reality, and suddenly, you were leaning over me, telling me to calm down."

He stopped there and looked at his hands that were tightly clasped together.

"How have we never been on Oprah?" he muttered quietly, before looking back up to John. "What's going on dad? What the hell is happening to me? Before, I was hearing things and now seeing them too? What's wrong with me?" Dean was scared, and it showed. He was shivering, even tough it was well over 30 degrees. His hair looked limp, and his face was creased. He certainly looked older than he was, wisdom shining in his eyes, which no teenager should have had to have known. He guessed it came with his son's job description.

John's heart was beating loudly, pulling him out of his stupor. Gazing intently into his eldest's eyes, he panicked, having no answer to the questions that hung in the air from when Dean had uttered them. He opened his mouth, as if to respond, but nothing came out and after a few seconds, he turned his head back towards the road, and twiddled the steering wheel, shooting off down another road to their right.

Dean grit his teeth. That episode a few minutes ago had him terrified, not only for Sammy's sake, but for his too. What had happened to him? Why had he been able to see Sam? Looking out of his father's window, he looked at the trees that encased them. It wasn't dark, so he could see clearly for miles.

Suddenly, he spotted something. A bag, left astray on a bed of leaves, underneath a large tree, resting up against the trunk. He screamed at his father to stop, and pushed open his door as John gazed uncertainly at him. Jumping out of the car, he made his was as quickly as he could, his back causing him trouble. Realisation ebbed its way into his mind, as he recognised the bag. It belonged to Sam.

Bending, feeling his dad's hand on his shoulder, he kneeled on the floor and opened the bag with shaking fingers. Pulling the zipper as far as he could, he glanced inside, almost dreading what he would find.

The first thing he noticed was a gleam of bright light. Frowning, he reached in and grabbed for the object. It turned out to be a thick, curved hunting knife, one that incidentally, Dean had bought for his birthday that year. He had even had the initials carved into it for him. He could remember the look on his little brother's face when he had given it to him.

_Flashback._

"_Cheer up Sammy, we're gonna have a great time." Dean attempted a grin at his brother, who sat, arms crossed on the sofa, staring moodily at the wall. He was angry, beyond reckoning. _

_Their dad had gone on a hunt, leaving the day before, saying that it was urgent, unavoidable. It just happened that Sam's birthday was two days after he left. But, that wasn't even what Sam was annoyed about, as John had missed his birthday before. It was the fact that it was like he had completely forgotten it even was his birthday. He said nothing apart from goodbye and 'Dean, look after your brother'. Sam had watched as he left, mouth open, gawping at his retreating back. _

_Turning to face Dean, his face was contorted in anger, which made his brother flinch. "Dean, how the hell can you stick up for this man, after he walks out and completely forgets?" his voice was slightly raised, but had not yet reached the full on Sammy-tantrum that Dean was so accustomed to. _

_Dean frowned, and glanced at his watch. Nine thirty in the evening. Suppressing a groan, and settling to roll his eyes instead, Dean shook his head gently, taking in his brother's posture, deciding to tread carefully. _

"_I'm not sticking up for him Sam, I'm just saying that we're probably gonna have more fun now, if you will get off your little tantrum stool, and come out with me." _

_That had been Dean's plan for the next day. It was a Saturday, so he needn't worry about school, and henceforth, he had decided to wake Sam up for some breakfast, before handing him over his presents (Sam had no idea that Dean had even got him anything,) and then taking him out for a lunch, grabbing a DVD from the local store around the corner, and watching that. _

_Watching Sam's movements carefully, he sighed a breath of relief as Sam's shoulders sunk from their defensive pose and he dropped his arms, falling limply into his lap. Looking up at his brother, Sam smiled slightly, before standing up and walking towards Dean. _

_Seeing the look of terror growing on his brother's face as he walked towards him, he grinned as Dean expected him to hug him. Swiftly, he grabbed Dean's arm, spun him round and got him in an arm lock. Reaching out with one hand, he proceeded to tickle his older brother, until he was caught off-guard from Dean's yelling, and was spun round and forced onto the floor, his older brother's weight settling on his back. _

"_God, Sam, you're getting rusty." Dean smiled. _

_Shortly after that, Dean sent his brother off to bed, earning a groan of disappointment. However, watching his brother's disappearing back, he snuck over the couch and reached underneath. Grabbing the large box that was hidden dutifully in the shadows, he lifted it out, along with a few bits of black, thin tissue paper that he had managed to get from the store. _

_Spending the next ten minutes wrapping the box carefully, he couldn't wait for his brother to open it in the morning. Smiling and putting the box back under the sofa, he decided that he couldn't be bothered to walk upstairs, and so collapse on the sofa, drifting asleep with a small smile gracing his lips. _

_When he woke again in the morning, he yawned and blinked as sun attacked his eyes. Grunting, the sharp pain behind his forehead slowly disappeared and he glanced up at the clock. Eight twenty-four. Opening his eyes wide, he blinked a few more times, before swinging his legs over the edge of the couch and standing up, swaying slightly as he got a faint head rush. Shaking his frame, he stumbled over to the kitchen and grabbing a few bits of bread, shoving them in the toaster. _

"_SAM!" he yelled, attempting rouse his brother. Sam had always been a light sleeper, and before the bread had shot up out of the toaster, his brother had come barrelling down the stairs and dropped into a chair around the table. _

"_Morning Sammy, happy birthday." Dean grinned at the sleepy look on Sam's face, before it brightened considerably at those words. _

"_Thanks Dean." Sam replied softly, looking at his brother with now wide puppy dog eyes. Hearing a spring, Dean looked back towards the toast, before taking them out, placing them on a plate and dropping it in front of Sam. Smiling his thanks, Sam proceeded to wolf down his toast, and cause Dean to pull a face. _

"_Dude, you sure can be gross sometimes." Shaking his head in a mock disgusted manner, he barged passed Sam and reached under the sofa. Pulling out the box for a second time, he stood up again and sat himself down next to Sam. _

_Placing the parcel on the table in front of him, he smiled as he watched Sam's reaction. His whole body paused in moving, and he looked at the present. Dropping the piece of toast in his hand, he looked over at the present. His eyes had gone wide and still, as though afraid that he might break the box as he reached towards it. _

"_You… you got his for me?" He whispered, eyes flickering to Dean who smirked and nodded. Watching his baby brother take the present in slightly shaking fingers, he was about ready to burst with pride. He was sure it stood out in his eyes, and he hastily rearranged his features into those of nonchalant. _

_Sam pried open the tissue paper as carefully as he could, scared of ruining his only present. As he removed the layer of paper, it revealed a box, slightly layered with red felt. Opening it, he gasped. Inside was a curved knife, lying on a thick pad of white foam. Its gleaming surface made Sam's mouth drop open as he took it in. Dean had never bought him anything like this. Looking closer at it, he saw something engraved onto the handle, just at the bottom. _

_S.W._

_Staring at it, he couldn't contain his happiness as he grinned and tackled his brother, being careful to place the knife down first. Hearing his brother's protests, he held on tighter, not caring that it was a major chick-flick moment that Dean so despised._

"_Thanks you Dean." He whispered quietly in his ear, smiling broadly._

"_Any time little brother, any time."_

_End Flashback. _

Looking at the knife now, he saw a small amount of a dark red coating the very edge of the blade. Frowning, he stowed it back in the bag and stood up, taking the pack with him.

"It's his." He said to John who stood a few feet away, taking in the surroundings. Looking back at the bag he clenched his eyes shut.

_We're coming Sammy, hang on!_

-:0:-


End file.
